Rushes
by happy mess inside a cup
Summary: "Leave her. Leave her for me, Draco," her breathless voice escapes her throat. "I can't."
1. he's not hers

**I.**

_he's not hers._

"Leave me alone," he hisses icily, trying to freeze the warm feeling his heart he feels when she's near. He glances at his older, better, prettier, wife and she swears his vanilla-scented xenophobia is getting to him again.

"Never," the smirk lies on her cherry-painted lips that contrasts with her ivory-painted skin. Her cerulean eyes look up at him while he wonders what makes her so fiery.

His face turns red from frustration and the sparks (because they're burning together) and he roughly grabs her wrist, painting inky black on the canvas of her skin, to pull her outside in the chill.

"What do you want from me?" his voice makes cobwebs in the november air and she shivers in the thin shawl that is the only thing protecting her from the onslaught of the wind.

A silence hangs over them, while she refuses to look at him, instead examining the enchanted petunias and carnations in the garden. Her ruby nails dig into her sensitive palms as her fists clench and unclench from agitation.

"Well, what is it? You seemed so determined back there, so say it," his rapid breath, bordering on hyperventilation, begins to slow as he realizes there's nothing to be afraid of now.

"You used to be mine, Draco," her tears pour like rain on her cheeks. She can't believe she's just said that.

"Not anymore," his eyes struggle to not rain, too.

He turns away and leaves her staring curiously at her dark bruises on her alabaster wrist while her eyes rain harder and harder.


	2. and she wants him sososo bad

**II**.

_and she wants him_ _so_**so**so _bad._

"Leave her, Draco. Leave her for me," her breathless voice escapes her throat, while she curiously studies his frozen mercury eyes.

"I can't." he looks down, and she swears his eyes rain enough for one drop to fall down his eburnean cheek.

They're both silent, while August air hangs over their skin. Sweat sticks to her cheap-thrill dress, while her ivory cheeks flush crimson from the heat.

Her whisper is so faint, he can pretend it's not even there. That this never happened.

"I give up.".

The _pop_ sound echoes as she apparates away for the last time. He knows he can't pretend anymore.


	3. don't even bother to apologize

**III.**

_don't even bother to apologize._

He calms his racing heartbeat, when she looks at him with that dreamy look that says she's there, but somewhere else. She seems to drift with grace towards him.

"Draco," she nods towards him, with a wistful air around her, and he doesn't know how she makes him blush crimson.

"You wanted to see me?" a curious note is slightly infused in her voice when her pale rose lips form the words. Her sapphire eyes study him, size him up, in a way that's too intelligent for her age.

"Yeah," he breathes, he imagines those goddamn pouting anemic lips meeting his.

"So what's so important that it couldn't be said in front of other people?" he concentrates on her pallid pink lips when she says the words.

He swallows, ignoring the slight hitch in his breathing.

"Forget it."

She looks curiously. He ignores her penetrating stare as he walks away.


	4. i am really no good at all on my own

**IV.**

_i am really no good at all, on my own_

He apparates her to a strawberry field. The comforting scent leaves her breathless and she looks at his flushed cheeks in that curious manner she always does. She wonders why he doesn't let go of her hand right after he's sure they didn't get splinched.

"Draco?" she questions, her wistful voice carried with the slight breeze.

"I left Astoria, Luna. I left her for you," he says, more euphoric than she's ever seen him. His eburnean teeth shine against his flawless skin, and she swears she didn't just hear that. The Nargles are getting to both of her again.

"W-What?" she stutters, completely speechless for once.

He brushes a strand of her fair hair away from her confused aquamarine eyes while she shifts away from him, breaking their eye contact.

"I love you," he chokes out, suddenly unsure of himself. The grin fades from his face, but the adrenaline-induced blush still stains his ivory cheeks.

"No," she whispers the word more to herself than him. A looks of horror invades her face, and she looks in his melted mercury eyes.

A look of confusion crosses his face. "Isn't this what you wanted to hear?"

He's suddenly scared for more than his life for once.

"No!" she screams and shoves him while she runs through the blinding blur of various shades of red and green that stain her bright yellow summer dress. Kind of like how the memories stain her mind.

Hyperventilation begins to set into her lungs and she accepts it like an old friend.

"Luna?" he calls, fearfully. He feels splinters in his chest as he looks for her.

"No!" she repeats the word childishly, hoping he'll just leave her alone. She has Neville now, she doesn't need him anymore. Cheap thrills are a thing of the past.

"Please," his voice breaks at the end. "I can't be alone," the fragrant breeze brings that last whisper to her sensitive ears. She wishes her radish earrings didn't help her hearing now. She closes her eyes and internally prays for his forgiveness right before she pulls out her wand.

A faint _pop_ reaches his ears, and he just can't believe this. _No one_ can resist him, a Malfoy.

She still left him, though.

Now, he breaks, breaks, _breaks_.  
(Just like she did.)


	5. an awkward epilogue

**a/n: so here's a bit of an awkward epilogue for anyone who bothers to read this story. it's a bit half-assed and written in an hour or so, but i hope you like it. oh, and reviews would be very much appreciated.  
**

**V.**

_Don't let your wish bone grow where your back bone should be._

She misses than she has any right to since she's the one who left him in that blur of colors and confusion years ago.

She misses the way his silver eyes lit up when she mentioned a new creature that her father had discovered. She misses the way his hands and his body seemed to fit perfectly with hers, like (oh merlin, she can't believe she's saying something so cliché) two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. She missed the way his flawless pearl teeth shone against his alabaster skin. She missed the way he hissed at her almost like a snake in public and whispered sweet nothings in her argent hair when they were in the privacy of a hotel room, making her ivory cheeks flush a deep rose.

But _oh Merlin_, what she missed the most was his touch. The way his hands seemed to paint a new canvas on her skin everytime they were together. The way his pale rose lips seemed to dance a perfect waltz or tango with her own chrysanthemum ones as they touched. The way his tender breaths touched the back of her neck when they slept in the cheap hotel room bed they shared. The way his bare perfect body touched hers in such a way she'll never forget. A way Neville never could.

Sometimes she missed the way they used to be. She wishes it could have been more simple.

Her eyes rain when she thinks of him now.

She's wasting away thinking of him now.

She doesn't care anymore. It's all her fault.

* * *

He misses her.

Oh, how can he just _fucking_ forget her now? He'd do anything just to forget her now.

Forget the way her cerulean eyes flashed sympathetically when he mentioned his father instead of them flashing angrily like everyone else's. Forget the way her delicate, skinny, beautiful fingers found just the right way to pleasure him into lose sight of everything but her. Forget the way her porcelain body moved perfectly with his, almost like water running across his skin. Forget the way her smile flashed, her pale pink lips stretched across her alabaster teeth almost perfectly. Forget the way she didn't treat him any more different in public than in private, seeing nothing wrong with their connection.

But _oh merlin_, what he _needed _to forget the most was her touch. The way her hands seemed to have magic healing powders and seemed to be unconciously healing his body of undiscovered wounds because her touch was just that _fucking_ amazing. The way her delicate lips felt like flower petals against his own chapped, rough ones when their lips were brought together desperately. The way her rose breath felt against his flushed face when she checked him for Nargles as he was about to leave her from another encounter. The way her naked, blushing body felt against his pale, toned one when they were brought together, moving against each other desperately. A way Ariana (is that even her fucking name) would never be able to do.

He misses the way they used to be. He wishes he could have gotten the courage to be with her.

His eyes refuse to rain when they think of her, but they do get cloudy.

He's wasting away thinking of her now, trying to forget her.

He doesn't care anymore. It's all his fault.


End file.
